


ever since i kissed you i just can't get out the taste

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: ASHTON HAS FLIGHT PHOBIA ;(, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, What's new?, are TENSE, ash u dick, but they could've, calum and ashton, kidding they didn't, they maybe had Sex ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 23:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10729284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "A trip will be good for the two of you," Luke says from over the phone, soft and sympathetic. "After all, you are best friends."Calum stays silent. He's just not so sure anymore.





	ever since i kissed you i just can't get out the taste

**Author's Note:**

> THE REALLY BAD HAWAII FIC THAT IS 502 MONTHS LATE

"A trip will be good for the two of you," Luke says from over the phone, soft and sympathetic. "After all, you _are_ best friends." 

 

Calum stays silent. He's just not so sure anymore. 

 

-

 

For Calum, the first thing that normally comes to mind as he enters a new place is the song writing possibilities. The chance to morph that first glimpse of beauty into a million and one different lyrics, meanings, melodies and chords, only to discard them all in favour of The One. It’s exhilarating, and he lives for it. Tour after tour, the states had flown by in a whirlwind of infrastructures turned guitar riffs, foreign culture turned to whistles, local food delicacies turned drum beats, and the list goes on.

 

However, for once in his damn life, song-writing is the last thing on Calum’s mind as he sits in the window seat of an airplane, 30,000 feet in the air, travelling 400km/h down the clear skies of Hawaii. He can see glimpses of open water down below, and feels a jolt of excitement. It’s kind of weird, ‘cause Calum’s currently empty head is one to jet out at least a decent stream of tunes even through shoddy experiences, but.

 

As he stares down the oval-shaped window overhead clouds into the breath-taking beauty of aqua blue reefs, his brain blanks. 

 

So what gives?

 

The answer to that is simple. It’s the boy sitting beside Calum, right across the armrest, in the middle seat: Ashton. His hand is gripped tight around the armrest, fingers running a pale white from their usual tan due to pressure. Calum can see from the corner of his eye that Ashton’s holding the armrest like a lifeline, noting that the older boy hadn’t changed from when they were only seventeen and eighteen on their first flight to the UK, ready to take on the world.

 

“Hey,” He speaks, and it sounds like a croak. To be fair, he hasn’t spoken since Ashton shoved sound-proof headphones over his curls, and that was hours ago.

 

Even the stewardess, holding out an offering of peanuts, had gotten nothing but a muted nod, polite but still - quiet.

 

Ashton jerks towards the sound of his voice, and his grip goes impossibly tight _er_ around the arm rest. Calum tuts and instinctively reaches out to unravel Ashton’s fingers, pressing the older’s sweaty palm against his own dry one, barely flinching.

 

“You okay?” He asks nicely, to which Ashton laughs loudly.

 

Calum isn’t surprised - he’s used to it- but doesn’t say anything. Ashton’s hand in his feels like fire, but Ashton not saying anything feels worse.

 

He’s about to turn away, retract his hand and forget he’d even tried to initiate _something_ , when Ashton’s fingers are squeezing around his, and the older nods tightly. “Yeah,” He replies, albeit late. “Yeah, it’s- Flying, ya’know?” And Calum knows. He definitely does.

 

Years of dealing with Ashton’s flight-phobia has trained him well. Michael and Luke are never quite considerate enough to take off their headphones when Ashton’s handle goes incredibly tight around the armrest, and they’re never observant enough to witness the tension in Ashton’s posture, the paleness in his face. Calum does. He notices, he always does. So he’s the one seated next to Ashton 100% of the time. He knows what to do.

 

He’s always known what to do, but then again, Ashton had always been happy to comply.

 

Now, Calum’s not so sure.

 

Now, Calum’s not even sure if Ashton will react negatively and if he’ll call him ‘gay’ with a nervous laugh if he suggests something such as a cuddle. Calum frowns. Maybe he _doesn’t_ know what to do. Without cuddles, he’s useless.

 

“Can I lift the armrest?” And, oh. Calum was not expecting that.

 

Ashton’s face is burning red as he says it, and Calum nods stiffly. Not because he’s uncomfortable with the idea, but more so due because Ashton seems to be. 

 

He watches and would rather sink into the chair and disappear than witness what he’s seeing now: Ashton fumbling with the barrier, their hands still clasped, and staring at Calum with big eyes when the armrest is lifted neatly back between their seats. “Can I…?” Ashton asks, and Calum just nods his head again, thinking back to a time when Ashton didn’t even hesitate to barrel into him. “Yeah,” He answers. “Go ahead, um, c’mere.”

 

Calum doesn’t make an uncomfortable joke about there being, ‘no homo, bro’ because he’s _considerate_.

 

They settle, but not comfortably.

 

He knows his elbow is dug somewhere near Ashton’s ribs, can feel the ridge of it if he moves slightly. Their hands end up squashed between them, serving as a wall now that the armrest is tucked away. Calum flushes, and doesn’t know how to make it better. It’s not so much a cuddle, but more so just Ashton leaning his head onto his shoulder without any adjustments to their posture. Calum clears his throat.

 

After a delayed few seconds of tense sitting, Calum breaks the silence. “My elbow is digging into your ribs,” He says. Ashton just nods. It's the closest thing Calum will get to an ‘OK’, so he untangles their fingers and shifts them into a better position.

 

Ashton sits forward slightly for Calum to slip his arm behind his back and around his waist. It’s easier, then, Ashton leaning easily into Calum’s side, head tucked naturally under Calum’s chin. It feels good and it feels _right,_ oddly fitting. It feels almost like two weeks ago, before they had even attempted to hook up again and pretty much destroyed their friendship in the process. Calum supposes that what they’re doing now is scourging the remnants of their broken platonic relationship.

 

He holds back a scoff. _Platonic_. As if. They hadn’t even started out that way.

 

And it had barely been a hook-up. It wasn’t even. It was just Ashton in a weak state of mind and Calum high off his wits. They’d wanted each other, already with legs entangled and shirts off, so why the fuck not? Because of a few frayed promises of, ‘We should stop this, Cal, it’s- It’s not professional. It’s not _right_ ,’ two years ago, that’s why the fuck not. Calum’s heart squeezes at the memory, of leaving Ashton’s bed with a broken heart that sits, still cracked down the centre, to this day, and then leaving Ashton’s bed _again_ , just two weeks ago, the crack deepening. He shivers.

 

“I can’t believe we’re going to Hawaii.” Ashton murmurs, a distraction, and his words hit Calum’s collarbone in a whisper. He stops thinking about being angry at Ashton. He stops thinking at all. He hasn't held Ashton this close in a while. “We’re going to see your people!”

 

Calum stiffens defensively. “I _told_ you, they’re not my people. I’m not even-“

 

“You’re not even Hawaiian. You’re Maori. And only half. Got it. I’m kidding, Cal.” Ashton laughs, and it’s not the stilted and awkward addressing that Calum has, unfortunately, grown used to for the past week, it's- It's _warm_. Calum softens, and the tension leaves his shoulders. Maybe they can survive this if Calum just- If he just stopped. Stopped holding so much against Ashton. Stopped wanting so much. They were in this together, and Calum should try not to make that impossible. He smiles.

 

“Sorry, I forgot you were still pursuing that stand-up career.” He replies easily, perhaps a bit late, and presses his cheek against the top of Ashton’s hair. Wanting to salvage any moment of peace between them, he asks. “You feeling better?”

 

Ashton hums against his neck. “Yeah, much. Thanks, C.”

 

And _God_ , he wishes they could stay like this forever. He wishes that they weren’t so ready to fall apart all the time.

 

“You’re okay,” Calum confirms, and silently, beneath that, ' _We're_ okay'. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was So Not Quality but i wrote this in feverish 3am HAZE in the middle of studying for exams which are 5 days away SO EXCUSE IT BEING NOT GOOD ?!!?nrfkeodwi hahaha i love cashton long live the kings. 
> 
> comments are always appreciated ;)


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